University of Virginia Library

PICCOLOMINI.

Gents—I arroved in Cleveland on Saturday P.
M. from Baldinsville jest in time to fix myself up
and put on a clean biled rag to attend Miss Picklehomony's
grate musical sorry at the Melodeon. The
krowds which pored into the hall augured well for
the show bisnis, & with cheerful sperrets I jined the
enthoosiastic throng. I asked Mr. Strakhosh at the
door if he parst the perfession, and he said not
much he didn't, whereupon I bawt a preserved seat
in the pit, & obsarving to Mr. Strakhosh that he
needn't put on so many French airs becawz he run
with a big show, and that he'd better let his weskut
out a few inches or perhaps he'd bust hisself some
fine day, I went in and squatted down. It was a sad
thawt to think that in all that vast aujience Scacely
a Sole had the honor of my acquaintance. “& this

ere,” sed I Bitturly, “is Fame! What sigerfy my
wax figgers and livin wild beasts (which have no
ekals) to these peple? What do they care becawz
a site of my Kangaroo is worth dubble the price of
admission, and that my Snakes is as harmlis as the
new born babe — all of which is strictly troo —?”
I should have gone on ralein at Fortin and things
sum more, but jest then Signer Maccarony cum out
and sung a hairey from sum opry or other. He had
on his store close & looked putty slick, I must say.
Nobody didn't understand nothin abowt what he sed,
and so they applawdid him versiferusly. Then Signer
Brignoly cum out and sung another hairey.
He appeared to be in a Pensiv Mood & sung a Luv
song I suppose, tho he may have been cussin the
aujince all into a heep for aut I knewd. Then cum
Mr. Maccarony agin & Miss Picklehomony herself.
Thay sang a Doit together.

Now you know, gents, that I don't admire opry
music. But I like Miss Picklehomony's stile. I
like her gate. She suits me. Thare has bin grater
singers and there has bin more bootiful wimin, but

no more fassinatin young female ever longed for a
new gown or side to place her hed agin a vest pattern
than Maria Picklehomony. Fassinatin peple is
her best holt. She was born to make hash of men's
buzzums & other wimin mad becawz thay ain't Picklehomonies.
Her face sparkles with amuzin cussedness
& about 200 (two hundred) little bit of funny
devils air continually dancin champion jigs in her
eyes, said eyes bein brite enuff to lite a pipe by.
How I shood like to have little Maria out on my
farm in Baldinsville, Injianny, whare she cood run
in the tall grass, wrastle with the boys, cut up strong
at parin bees, make up faces behind the minister's
back, tie auction bills to the skoolmaster's coat-tales,
set all the fellers crazy after her, & holler & kick
up, & go it just as much as she wanted to! But I
diegress. Every time she cum canterin out I grew
more and more delighted with her. When she
bowed her hed I bowed mine. When she powtid
her lips I powtid mine. When she larfed I larfed.
When she jerked her hed back and took a larfin
survey of the aujience, sendin a broadside of
sassy smiles in among em, I tried to unjint myself
& kollapse. When, in tellin how she drempt she
lived in Marble Halls, she sed it tickled her more
than all the rest to dream she loved her feller still
the same, I made a effort to swaller myself; but
when, in the next song, she looked strate at me &
called me her Dear, I wildly told the man next to
me he mite hav my close, as I shood never want 'em
again no more in this world. [The Plain Dealer
containin this communicashun is not to be sent to
my famerly in Baldinsville under no circumstances
whatsomever.]

In conclushun, Maria, I want you to do well. I
know you air a nice gal at hart & you must get a
good husband. He must be a man of branes and
gumpshun & a good provider — a man who will luv
you strong and long — a man who will luv you jest
as much in your old age, when your voice is cracked
like an old tea kittle & you can't get 1 of your
notes discounted at 50 per sent a month, as he will
now, when you are young & charmin & full of music,
sunshine & fun. Don't marry a snob, Maria.

You ain't a Angel, Maria, & I am glad of it.
When I see angels in pettycoats I'm always sorry
thay hain't got wings so they can kin quietly fly off
where thay will be appreshiated. You air a woman,
& a mity good one too. As for Maccarony, Brignoly,
Mullenholler and them other fellers, they can
take care of theirselves. Old Mac. kin make a comfortable
livin choppin cord wood if his voice ever
givs out, and Amodio looks as tho he mite succeed
in conductin sum quiet toll gate, whare the vittles
would be plenty & the labor lite.

I am preparin for the Summer Campane. I
shall stay in Cleveland a few days and probly you
will hear from me again ear I leave to once more
becum a tosser on life's tempestuous billers, meanin
the Show Bisnis.